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In the United States 11 November is Veterans Day, a day to honor all the men and women who have served honorably in all branches of military service at war or in peacetime. This flash, Remembrance, was originally posted in November 2010.

Remembrance

The first rays of the sun tinged the sky a pale pink as Walter clipped the flag onto the halyard. When it reached the top of the pole he tied it off and saluted as he did every morning. He sipped his coffee and watched the sun rise.

From inside the house his grandson, Mike, watched. “Mee-Maw,” he asked, “why does Pop-Pop have that big flagpole?”

Gladys wrapped an arm around the child. “Pop-Pop is very proud to fly the flag.” Walter had installed a 30-foot flagpole in his front yard the day he bought the small bungalow. “He was a soldier you know.”

Mike’s eyes grew wide. “Pop-Pop was in the army? But he never plays toy soldiers with me. You all won’t even let me have toy guns when I’m over here.”

“Well, that’s true. We don’t like it when you play those kind of games. He didn’t really like having to use guns for real. But he believed it was his duty to serve and he was proud to do it.”

“Did he have to kill people in the war?”

“He probably did, honey. But he doesn’t like to talk about the war. Not even with me.”

“But how….” Mike fell silent trying to make sense of his Pop-Pop. He must have hated being in the war if he wouldn’t talk about it. Yet he flies the flag every single day. And Mee-Maw says he was proud to be in the army.

Gladys kissed the top of his head. “Soldiers fight so the rest of us don’t have to. They help make it safe for us to live here so we can go to school and to work and to church. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t like to do. But we can still be proud that we’re helping the people we love.”

Mike gazed out the window for a few more minutes. “Mee-Maw, can I cook the eggs today?”

“Of course, dear.”

He ran out the front door and grabbed Walter’s hand. “Come on, Pop-Pop. I’m going to make you breakfast.”

.

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Madeline shivered in the booth of the little diner. “Maybe eating somewhere new will break me out of this rut,” she mused to herself. “And this place looks so warm and cozy.” Besides, it was close to her office and had not been open long. It’s always good to support a local establishment.

The proprietor, Alphonse, a slight middle-aged man with a beatific smile, greeted her warmly. “How about some nice, hot soup to warm you up?”

“That sounds great,” Madeline smiled back.

“I’ll bring you something special,” Alphonse gave a little bow. “This is the only place in the world you can get it. My own creation.” He returned to the kitchen.

Madeline closed her eyes and massaged her temples. This case. This case had her mind in turmoil. No one she had talked to in any law enforcement agency anywhere had heard anything like it. And now it had happened for the third time. Three times in as many months.

Three times make it a serial, but serial what? Some madman is abducting young mothers with their infant children. He tortures the women — there’s no other word for it — by making them watch their child being murdered. He makes them watch. The bastard. But then, moments later returns the child unharmed.

No one knows how he’s making such a convincing display of the horror. Drugs? Hypnosis? CGI? The women all swear they saw their child die. It seems completely real. And then, perhaps most inexplicable of all, when the children are returned he collects the mother’s tears. And then he lets them go.

“Here’s your soup, ma’am,” Alphonse placed the steaming bowl on the table. “Careful, it’s piping hot.”

“Thank you,” Madeline stirred the hot liquid. “This is your own creation you said?”

“Oh yes. And very special. One of the ingredients is very hard to come by. This is only the third time I’ve been able to make it.”

Third time. She turned her gaze from Alphonse’s inscrutable smile to the wall behind him where the diner specials were neatly printed in colored chalk. In cheery, yellow script she read:

Soup du jour: larmes de joie

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Note: Long-time readers may recognize this as a piece I published before I joined the Friday Flash Fiction group. I have made some changes improvements to the previous version.